Day: September 28, 2019

DaBaby – VIBEZ Lyrics

Ah, nah)
You know it’s Baby, nigga, hahaha
Hah
(Oh Lord, Jetson made another one), ha
[Chorus]
She wanna fuck with me, but I don’t got the time (Mmh, mmh)
I just hopped off a private plane and went and hopped on 85 (Yeah)
Go call my chauffeur, bitch, ’cause I don’t like to drive
We in Suburbans back to back and we gon’ fill ’em up with vibes (Let’s go)
[Verse 1]
Fill ’em with vibes (Yeah), get in and ride (Yeah, yeah)
And no, a nigga not blind (Uh-uh)
But I keep the stick and I’m firin’ (Bitch)
I ain’t met a nigga in life
That’s fuckin’ with me, say he did, then he lyin’ (Mmh, mmh)
Got so many vibes stuffed in the car
We can fuck them hoes six at a time (No cap)
I make them hoes say, “That nigga so fine” (Ooh)
“Girl, he got the dick you can feel in your spine” (Yeah)
Yeah, that what they say about Baby
You know that them bitches don’t play about Baby
Baby should go run for president
Look what God did, took his time with me (Yeah, yeah)
Got a red and white ho like a peppermint (Ooh)
Book the hotel, take the vibes in
She gon’ fuck me and fuck on my brethren (Uh)
My brother ‘nem, havin’ three hoes in the king size
I ain’t finished yet (Mmh), get another bitch (Mmh)
Got her ridin’ dick and screamin’, “Yeehaw” (Mmh, mmh, mmh, mmh)
Make me proud, girl, you a cowgirl (Huh?)
Did a handstand, I’m like, “Wow, girl” (Okay, okay)
Got me fuckin’ her upside-down (Ooh, mmh), baow, baow
Yeah, we goin’ dumb, say she wanna cum (Mmh)
I’m lookin’ like, “When?” She lookin’ like, “Now”
Some more came in, say they want it too
I tagged in my brother, bitch, I’m out (Bye), I know
[Chorus]
She wanna fuck with me, but I don’t got the time (Mmh, mmh, yeah)
I just hopped off a private plane and went and hopped on 85 (Yeah)
Go call my chauffeur, bitch, ’cause I don’t like to drive
We in Suburbans back to back and we gon’ fill ’em up with vibes (Let’s go)
She wanna fuck on me, but I don’t got the time (Mmh, mmh)
I just hopped off a private plane and went and hopped on 85 (Yeah)
Go call my chauffeur, bitch, ’cause I don’t like to drive
We in Suburbans back to back and we gon’ fill ’em up with vibes (Look)
[Verse 2]
Let’s get on a jet (Yeah), come give me some neck (Yeah, yeah)
She ain’t pickin’ up (Huh?), and her nigga just called, she gon’ send him a text
I don’t need no doc’, bitch, you know I’m a dog, better send me the vet
Ever made you a million? Play this song
[Intro]
Let’s go (Yeah, yeah, Neeko, you made that motherfuckin’ beat? I tell ’em, “Riddle me that,” ain’t offended me yet
My bitch drink Bacardi, I’m in this bitch feelin’ like ‘Set (Okurr), quarter mil’ on my neck
One-point-two on the crib, four hundred thou’ on the whip, dickin’ down your lil’ bitch
I’m ’bout to go buy me a coupe (Zoom)
Pull up, make the doors raise the roof (Yeah)
Louis V army fatigue (Yes, sir)
Hop out with a pole like a troop (Yeah, get in there)
Baby Ray Allen from three (Swish)
You leave me open, I shoot (Baow, baow)
We like Martin and Pam at the hotel (Uh)
We kickin’ hoes out, get the boot (Mmh)
These hoes catchin’ bodies, they ’bout it (Yeah)
We having new vibes in the lobby (New vibes)
That’s wherever we go, ain’t no problem (No problem)
I just told a bitch no, she was childish (Bye)
Pulled up like
[Chorus]
She wanna fuck with me, but I don’t got the time (Mmh, mmh)
I just hopped off a private plane and went and hopped on 85 (Yeah)
Go call my chauffeur, bitch, ’cause I don’t like to drive
We in Suburbans back to back and we gon’ fill ’em up with vibes

Categories: Music

Young M.A – The Lyfestyle Lyrics

Play this song
[Intro]
Woo
Woo
Ayo man, I feel like I’ve been humble too long, man
I’m too humble, man (Woo)
Fuck all that humble shit, uh
[Chorus]
Uh, fuck bein’ humble
Put your money where your mouth is
Matter fact, make it double
Blue strips by the bundle
Foreign cars in the huddle (Skrrt)
Baby, I just wanna fuck you
Grabbin’ on your bubble, pullin’ on your frontal
Then it’s back to the hustle (Huh?)
Fuck bein’ humble
Blue strips by the bundle
Pinky ring out the puddle (Woo)
Hot sauce on the Ruffles (Woo)
Gang gang out the jungle (Gang)
.30 Glock, we a couple (Brr)
More money, more trouble, cake on funnel, vision on tunnel (Woo)
[Verse 1]
Gotta get it by any means
Billy Hope, but got plenty dreams
Turtle to a rabbit (Huh?)
Even when I walk, still in the lead
You lil’ niggas better take it ease (Huh?)
Treatin’ life like Baby Boy
Give her head, then I take the keys (Woo)
Bend the block like she bend her knees (Skrrt)
My presence speak for me, I don’t even gotta say a word (Shh)
My hitta sweep for me, all I gotta do is say the word (Grr)
Used to hustle out the Chevy Cruise, couldn’t play the curb (Skrrt)
The game will teach you a lot, but you gotta play to learn (Facts)
Paper cuts when I count it up (Huh?)
Skyscrapers when I pile it up (Huh?)
Double cup when I brown it up (Huh?)
I’m a queen, nigga, crown me up (Huh?)
I’m a queen, nigga, crown me up (Huh?)
I’m a queen, nigga, crown me up (Huh?)
I’m a queen, nigga, crown me up
[Chorus]
Fuck bein’ humble
Put your money where your mouth is
Matter fact, make it double
Blue strips by the bundle
Foreign cars in the huddle (Skrrt)
Baby, I just wanna fuck you
Grabbin’ on your bubble, pullin’ on your frontal
Then it’s back to the hustle (Huh?)
Fuck bein’ humble
Blue strips by the bundle
Pinky ring out the puddle (Woo)
Hot sauce on the Ruffles (Woo)
Gang gang out the jungle (Gang)
.30 Glock, we a couple (Grr)
More money, more trouble, cake on funnel, vision on tunnel (Woo)
[Verse 2]
I’m motivation for my people (Yes)
Yeah we different, but we equal (Yes)
Eye to eye with the real (Huh?)
The fake niggas I can see through (Huh?)
I hate payin’ bills
Yeah I’m rich, but I’m cheap, too (Uh)
Food stamps out the Key Food (Yeah)
Oh well, man, that’s free food
[Bridge]
Yeah
I can’t change
I can’t change my ways
That’s my wristlet, and yes I’m rich, bitch
And that’s word to Rick James (I’m rich, bitch)
I stay in my lane (Skrrt)
I drink away my pain (Yes)
Matter of fact, pass me that bottle
I need to pour up
[Chorus]
Fuck bein’ humble
Put your money where your mouth is
Matter fact, make it double
Blue strips by the bundle
Foreign cars in the huddle (Skrrt)
Baby, I just wanna fuck you
Grabbin’ on your bubble, pullin’ on your frontal
Then it’s back to the hustle (Huh?)
Fuck bein’ humble
Blue strips by the bundle
Pinky ring out the puddle (Woo)
Hot sauce on the Ruffles (Woo)
Gang gang out the jungle (Gang)
.30 Glock, we a couple (Grr)
More money, more trouble, cake on funnel, vision on tunnel (Woo)

Categories: Music